


break surface tension

by haloud



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: Moreso than any gift or words of thanks, Klein can best show his gratitude by being forthright and honest--qualities Dieck values over all others.





	break surface tension

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from a sadness runs through him by the hoosiers

_Sir Dieck, may I request your assistance in the supply tent?_

An innocent enough question, to be sure.  For any number of reasons, a soldier could require an extra pair of arms to search for something or lift a crate, and Dieck is generally happy to help.  However, he cannot deny the twinge of unease he feels in his chest at the identity of the asker. 

Even beneath the canvas, the bright Bernese sun filters through, reflecting off dust particles and light pole-wood and every shining strand of Klein’s hair. 

“What can I help you with, General Klein?”

“Please, just call me Klein.  I…” He pulls his shoulders back and raises his sharp chin.

  _That’s a look to lead armies with._ Dieck’s unease builds, but it begins to mix with something different altogether, something smoldering and undeniable.

“I apologize for the subterfuge, but I’m afraid all I wanted to do was get you alone,” Klein continues.

“And what did you want to talk about?”

“Forgive my bluntness.” 

Dieck has a moment to wonder at the strange breathlessness of Klein’s voice before he’s stumbling backwards, Klein plastered up against him.

Nearly tackling a trained mercenary is a dangerous prospect.  Every instinct of Dieck’s should light up at once: push him away, wrench back his arm, force the attacker to his knees.  But there’s another instinct that lights up hotter, lights up first. 

Dieck clamps his arms around Klein’s waist, hauls him in tighter, and opens his mouth.

He can’t say he’s surprised; there have been moments when their eyes meet in battle, moments sat too close together around the campfire, moments that have ended up with their fingers entwined and their heads rested together.  But until now, it’s always been quiet—maybe not deniable, but at the least Dieck could try and ignore the implications.  It’s never been too much.

Now, however, the sensation of hands and mouths and _tongues_ cascades over Dieck like a waterfall, threatening to sweep him under.  He has to tear himself away to gasp in a scalding breath, and in the space he creates Klein dips in to scatter little kisses across his jaw.

“What…What brought this on?” Dick asks, trying to pull together his scattered thoughts.

“I just wanted to be honest,” Klein replies.  He backs up just enough to look Dieck in the eyes, but he keeps his arms wound tightly around Dieck’s neck.  “I wanted to make sure you know my feelings.”

Is that flush on his cheeks just from the heat of the moment, or is he embarrassed?  Either way, the sight makes it even harder to think straight.

Dieck can’t seem to summon the words to correctly respond.  It was easy enough, before—warring with the guilt of leaving Klein in limbo was easier than facing head-on their history and the potential consequences of pursuing a real relationship.  However bad a man that may make Dieck, he knows better than to leave himself vulnerable when there is every chance that Klein will never see nor speak to him again once this war is over.

Klein seems, for the moment, content enough to simply let their bodies do the talking.  His hands, slim and calloused, scrape from Dieck’s navel to his shoulders.  Dieck’s skin burns in their wake like Klein has magic in his palms, like he’s even more otherworldly, more untouchable, than Dieck already knows to be true.  Desperately, he clutches the soft fabric over Klein’s lower back, trying to ground himself in less than the press of velvet flesh.

He—they—shouldn’t be _doing_ this.

More defiant, petulant even, than he would like to admit, Dieck has never shied away from his past.  He embraces it as a sign to the nobles who are his main employers.  If they want his skills, he wants them to know that the man they rely upon is nothing more than a retired Etrurian pit fighter.  The sand of the arena scoured off any shame he may once have felt, and the tortures of the more recent past have divorced him so entirely from his own skin that he spares little thought these days for how others perceive him.

But gods he wishes for something now.  For any shred of modesty.  He wishes to be as modest as a monk, wishes to be as loyal as any paladin, wishes for muslin or mail or sackcloth, Elmine, _anything,_ anything to grant him respite from the fire Klein is intent to pour down his throat until he chokes on it.

“Stop, stop,” Dieck gasps into Klein’s mouth.  Klein’s hands tighten on his shoulders.  He pulls away with one last, lingering stroke of his tongue. 

“What is it?”  He’s as breathless as Dieck himself, with a sunset lighting up his cheeks.

_Give me strength._

“Perhaps we might want to take this a little slower?”

“Right.  Slow.  Yes, we can be slow; my apologies.”  Klein doesn’t stumble over the words, though his mouth is so red and swollen and Dieck can feel what must be a twin ache in his own jaw.  No, he acquiesces as gracefully as he does anything else.  Dieck’s heart has yet to cease its rabbiting rhythm in his chest.

“I just don’t want us to do anything you’ll regret later,” Dieck says.  Relief and despair war within him as Klein’s hands slide away from his skin, as he sets Klein’s feet back on the ground.  Klein is nothing but sinew beneath the veneer of noble softness that he has never been able to discard.  His weight was so slight that Dieck lifted him off his toes in a fit of passion without even noticing the burden.

_It’s over, it’s done, no one got hurt and you did nothing wrong,_ Dieck thinks as he tugs Klein’s tunic back into place.

_He’ll never touch you again, now that you know the bliss it brings,_ he swallows back as he takes a step away.

Klein’s eyes slide down and away.  The flush hasn’t yet left his face.  His fists clench by his side.  Dieck raises an eyebrow uneasily as the silence stretches too long between them.  There’s nothing Dieck can do but incline his head in half a bow and move to pass Klein and leave the tent.  However, before he can attempt to go anywhere, Klein’s arm shoots out to bar the way.

“Before you go anywhere, I want to establish something,” he says, voice clear and calm and, though he speaks quietly, Dieck’s ears ring as if he’d shouted.  Klein continues, eyes fixed to Dieck’s, “There is nothing you would do that would make me regret a coupling between us.  Nothing short of you abandoning something you want because of a misplaced sense of duty.”

Klein’s arm drops slowly, though with his gaze unwavering Dieck might as well be pinned in place with shackles weighing down his wrists and ankles. 

“Apologies for being so forward,” Klein says.  He smoothes his hands down the front of his tunic and, finally, breaks eye contact.  “I…just wanted to ensure there would be no misunderstanding between us.”

A surge of awful fondness shakes Dieck’s knees.  This boy—this young man—stands taller than Dieck ever gave him credit for, and he’s caught shamefaced for having so underestimated him.  Klein has cut to the core of him in a quest to free him from imagined bonds, and now stands with arms outstretched, hoping that Dieck will walk into them.

Is Dieck even capable of doing so?  Does he possess gentleness enough in his scarred hands to hold Klein and not cause him to break?

Of course, every light in Klein’s violet eyes is telling him that the fastest way to shattering would be to leave now without a word.

To test himself more than anything else, Dieck reaches out and cups Klein’s jaw.  The young man doesn’t flinch away from him, doesn’t even move except for a quick intake of breath.  A muscle flutters beneath Dieck’s slow, stroking thumb, and his heart picks up its pace.

“I do not know what you want from me,” Dieck confesses.  Quiet, hoarse.  There are freckles dusted across the bridge of Klein’s nose and gathered in the corners of his eyes, brought into being by long hours marching beneath the sun.  Klein’s hand comes up to cover Dieck’s where it has paused on his cheek, sending a buzz all the way up Dieck’s arm.

“All I want is a chance.  A chance to convince you I see you as my equal.  A chance to…” He trails off, takes a deep breath, and continues.  “I don’t wish to frighten you with talk of commitment.  I promise that I will respect whatever pace you find comfortable.  But I must confess, ever since I was a child, I have missed you dearly.  When I was very young, I thought that it would be simple: someday I would find you, and you would come home, and we would be a family again.  Then I grew older, and I realized that it was likely you left of your own accord and must have had your reasons for doing so.  But…this is, ultimately, what I really want.  I want you in my life.  Now, tomorrow, and after the war.”

Dieck’s stomach clenches, and a corner of his mind begs him to run.  _Equals,_ Klein says, but do either of them even know the meaning of the word? Nothing good has ever come of his loyalty; he has never found a master worthy of being served.  Lord Pent was worthy—worthy enough to deserve better than him.  Has that fact changed?  Has—

Klein closes his eyes, soft lashes brushing Dieck’s finger.  Something thickens in Dieck’s throat.  He can’t say no.  Who is he to say no, to cut this short before it has even begun?  Well, in truth it began more than a decade ago, with a small hand that shook his and clasped his scars without fear. 

If he can follow Lord Roy, then he can choose this, too.  It is never too late to change.

“I…don’t know what will happen,” Dieck says.  An honest truth.  “But I have seen too much of the world to truly fear pain.  I can try this, try to be what you want.  I merely—“

“We will try _together,”_ Klein says, his eyes flying open again.  “We—I swear to you, Dieck, we will be partners, and—“

Suddenly, Klein is flying back into him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, knees bracketing his sides in a desperate embrace.  Dieck catches him around his back and holds him close.

“And we will find a way to make this right for _both_ of us,” Klein whispers tearfully into his neck.

This time, it’s Dieck’s turn to close his eyes.  Blessed, overwhelmed, drowning—he leans into Klein’s touch, and allows himself to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i love bodyguard crushes that become equal and also resolving fraught, miscommunicative relationships, so this fic was inevitable  
> 2) i know the ending is cheesy af dont @ me ahahaha  
> 3) posting it finally because klein finally came home in heroes!!!!! i Love him


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